Desert and Desire
by CrystalHeart40
Summary: Heather gets more than she bargained for when she meets up with Mac. I'm posting this story, but again, this one is written by B.L. Green and she has given me permission to post it here.


Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to anything pertaining to Red Canyon, including their characters, plot or dialogue. I have merely borrowed them for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.

Desert and Desire

For Heather with love

This was undoubtedly the craziest thing Heather had ever done. A nasty breakup and she loaded her car, and cleaned out the bank accounts with no clear destination in mind. Now she found herself practically in the desert with her car temp gauge edging ever more into the red danger zone. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath.

Up ahead a small, kinda creepy, store sat on the right side of the road. Knowing her options were limited, Heather reluctantly pulled in. A few cars and a few more beat up trucks were scattered in the dirt parking lot and as soon as she opened the door, twangy country music assaulted her ears. And now steam was pouring out from under the car hood. Not very reassuring.

At 5'7" with long, dark hair half way down her back, and great legs showcased in a short skirt and cowboy boots, she struck a pretty figure when she opened the door. A kindly looking, middle aged Mexican man was behind the bar, and welcomed her with a warm smile.

Three guys sat on stools and a fourth was methodically feeding quarters into a jukebox. She sincerely hoped he had better taste than the shit currently playing.

Nervously she walked to the bar and felt the weight of a lot of eyes on her. "May I help you?" the bartender asked with a slight accent.

"I hope so. My car just broke down. I'm hoping there's a mechanic around." She heard footsteps, heavy on the wooden floor, coming up behind her. Jukebox guy came up right beside her, a little too close and definitely in her personal space. He stared at her, lazily appraising her from head to toe. Heather politely tried to ignore him and kept her eyes on the barkeeper.

"Hey," a deep voice said practically in her ear. "I'm the only mechanic you're gonna find for a hundred miles or so."

Cautiously, Heather turned her head. His face wore a sneer with the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. But there was something hard there, almost brutal. "Can you look at my car?"

"No. Business hours are over."

She glanced at her wrist, but he placed a large, calloused hand over her hand. There was grease trapped beneath his fingernails. "Business hours are whatever the fuck I say they are." He pulled her wrist insistently, "Come on, we're gonna dance."

"Mac," the bartender said softly. But Heather, aware this rude man was her best chance of getting out of here, shook her head at him, and allowed Mac to lead her to the middle of the room.

At least it's a decent song, she thought, then felt his hands grab her ass and pull her roughly up against him, bodies touching from chest to hips.

"Hey," she protested, pushing against his chest.

"Oh, shut the fuck up." He grabbed her ass again and pulled her back against him. "Pour us some shots," he yelled in the general direction of the bar. Okay, she could smack his face, and walk away, and stay stuck with a broken car, or let him grope her and maybe get out of here.

He wasn't bad looking. Actually, if she was honest, he was pretty hot. Messy hair, gorgeous eyes, high cheekbones, and a full mouth. She put her arms around his neck and danced. "Are you gonna look at my car?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I ain't fucking with it today." His hands were now squeezing her ass and his eyes were watching her intently. "You're hot, miss. Hot as fuck. Gotta name?"

"Heather," she answered with a sigh.

"I like that long hair. Great ass too. Not a lot on top, but I'm an ass guy. Let's grab some shots."

His hand was almost a manacle, trapping her hand and pulling her behind him. She could either walk or be dragged across the floor.

He picked up two shot glasses filled with clear liquid, handed one to her and watched expectantly.

"I'm not a whisky kinda girl." She sat the glass back on the bar. Mac promptly picked it back up.

"Yeah, well there's a tow truck in the parking lot. Mine. You want me to fix your car? You're gonna have to take a few shots. Then we'll get the fuck outta here. Up to you. I'm sure you'd love spending the night in a car while the coyotes and shit come sniffing around. Might get your hot ass raped too. Broken in a little?"

Heather grabbed the glass, slammed the shot, ignoring the burn, and put it back in his hand. "Are you always a complete ass or is this special for me?"

The bartender smiled. "Ma'am, for Mac, this is sweet."

"Yeah, I'm sweet." He refilled both glasses and held hers under her nose.

Fighting anger and amusement, Heather took the second shot. It still burned. "What the hell is that?"

"Moonshine." Mac poured more shots.

"I'm not getting drunk with you, mister," she warned. "Is there a restroom?"

The bartender pointed toward a dark hallway, and she walked away. Already she could feel the effects of the alcohol. She checked her reflection, not bad considering, she decided, and went back out.

"Last shot," Mac said with a smirk. "The two fucktards are hooking your car to the tow. I ain't drunk, and all my tools are in my shop." She slammed it and wondered if she was stupid to get in this guy's truck.

Again he trapped her hand in his, and began to tug her toward the door. The sunlight hurt her eyes. He led her to a beat-up truck and shut the door for her. By the time he slid behind the wheel, Heather wasn't feeling good.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," she moaned.

"No you're not. But you are gonna pass out." He pulled out as Heather's head slumped.

Hours later, Heather woke up disoriented and tried to figure out where she was. She tried to get up, saw that her right foot was chained to a wall, and thought, I'm in deep shit here.

"Hello," she screamed. "Hey, is someone here?" She heard footsteps and looked up to see Mac.

"Good, you're awake."

"Let me go! Right now, buddy. I'm not playing."

He stood over her. "Yeah, well neither am I, yet. Got a couple more packages to wrap up, sweetheart. Be right back."

She began to scream, and he stood with hands on slim hips. "Finished? In case you didn't look, we're in my cave. There's nobody around for miles. Scream all ya want." With that he stepped away behind a film of plastic.

Panic was trying to set in and her brain was fuzzy from whatever he'd drugged her with. She tried the chain, but it was strong, and despite stuff all over the place, there was nothing nearby she could use as a weapon.

She had no idea how much time passed. It felt like hours, but she saw Mac step back through the plastic.

He'd changed clothes and his hair was damp from a shower. He wore well faded jeans, a white T-shirt and his feet were bare. Heather felt a hint of revulsion that she found him attractive.

"You done screaming or want me to gag you?"

"I'm done. You finished playing psycho the kidnapper or wanna let me go?" she countered.

He actually smiled. "I like a fighter. Lay down."

"What?"

"I said lay down right now. I'm not fucking kidding." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a knife. "No need to hurt you. All you gotta do is mind me. Your choice, sweetheart."

Heart racing, Heather lay back on a mattress without sheets. She watched as he came toward her, knife firmly in hand. "If you try to hit me, I'm gonna punch you. Try to bite me, I **will** bite you. Don't be stupid. I'd slit your throat without blinking."

He straddled her hips and she watched helplessly as he moved the knife under her shirt and began to cut it away from her. She watched him stare and felt him run his rough hands across her stomach. "Now take the shirt off and HAND it to me."

Unable to see another option, Heather removed her shirt and gently placed it in his outstretched hand. "Good girl. Hold out your hands, wrists together." She did, and Mac used her shirt to bind her tightly.

"Ok then." She watched him toss the knife across the room and heard it clatter against a table. He was still straddled across her hips and reached out a hand to caress her neck. "You really are a looker, and I really love that long hair."

He leaned down slowly and placed his lips on hers. "This don't have to be a bad thing," he whispered and began to kiss her. She resisted at first, but Mac fisted his hands in her hair, and parted her lips with his tongue. "Fucking behave," he warned.

He was insistent, exploring every inch of her mouth, until she couldn't stop herself and kissed him back. She felt his smile and his grip on her hair loosened. He deepened the kiss, his hands now inching down her face, neck, collar bones, and stopping to fondle her breasts. "I love that you don't wear a bra," he whispered and took a nipple into his mouth. "Just fucking begging for it."

Heather arched her back for more and moaned when his teeth grazed her nipple. He did it again and chuckled when she cried out. She felt his hand edging her skirt up, fingers skimming her inner thighs as he parted her legs. "I'd hoped you skipped the panties, too." He ripped them from her, none too gently and threw them across the room.

Heather stared up at him scared, nervous, and more turned on than she'd ever been in her life. This was dangerous, this was insanity, this was hot as fuck!

He took his shirt off first, showing powerful shoulders, a firm chest with tattoos, and abs she longed to touch. Mac watched her watch him, puzzled not to find her searching for a way to escape. He stood and slowly unbuttoned his jeans and paused. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" Heather countered.

"Like I'm ice cream, chocolate or something." She blushed. "I asked a fucking question." But she continued her silence. "You crazy or something?"

Heather laughed, just couldn't help it. "You drugged me, chained me up in a cave, and cut my clothes with a knife. Your definition of crazy is obviously different from mine."

Mac unzipped his pants and slid them to the floor, kicking them away with his right foot. "Yeah, well. For a woman drugged, kidnapped, and stripped at knifepoint, you're acting pretty damn weird and I wanna know why!"

"Sure Mac. It's a weird situation. Does me no good to scream, right? I hit - you punch? You've got me chained and have a knife. Yeah I'm feeling a bit crazy." she smiled at his puzzled expression. "I'm scared of you because I'm not stupid. But you're a gorgeous man. Crazy no doubt, but I do want this."

Mac laughed and ran a hand through his hair. He removed his boxers and Heather almost had second thoughts. The man was huge - porn star material. "Not sure if this is some kinda game, but I ain't stupid either, sweetheart. Let's see if you want this. Let's see what you say when I'm fucking your brains out."

He knelt down on top of her, once more straddling her, and she could feel his dick pressing against her. He began playing with her breasts pinching one nipple as he rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger. Damn if she looks like she's faking, he thought.

Mac leaned down and licked a hot trail between her breasts, still kneading her nipples. He continued up, nipping playfully along her jaw line before claiming her mouth again. She felt his hands slide down, one cupping her ass, the other sliding over her clit. The sensation pulled another ragged moan from Heather.

His finger was rough and calloused. Mac did it again, slower with more pressure, his tongue mating with hers. Helpless, she arched her hips, wordlessly asking for more. He eased a finger inside her, she was already wet, and he began to move at the same lazy tempo his tongue was thrusting into her mouth. He eased a second finger in and began to rub his thumb against her clit. "Baby, you're tight. I'll try not to hurt you…too much."

She could feel her orgasm building, his words only fueling her. "Hurt me. I don't care. Just don't stop. Please, don't stop," she begged. Mercifully he didn't. She felt his tempo increase, felt the increased pressure of his thumb and she exploded with a scream, panting.

Mac smiled wickedly and raised his hand to his mouth and casually licked the finger he'd had inside of her. It was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen until he leaned in to kiss her again. "Taste good, don't ya?"

"I, um," that was as coherent as she could speak. He fisted both hands in her hair, pulling roughly to make her look at him. The look on his face, intense, wild eyed and she could feel that he was hard as a rock.

"Open your mouth." She parted her lips slightly, and he kissed her again. Hard and demanding. "Tell me how good your pussy tastes."

"Good," she answered.

"It's a start. Now let's see how it feels." He spread her legs with his knee, as wide as they would go, and she felt him pause just outside her entrance. He grabbed her hips, raising them slightly and thrust inside - hard. His groan mingled with her gasp. Mac was huge, stretching and filling her to the edge of pain. "God damn. You are tight as fuck," he panted.

"Start slow, she asked. "You're too big. Give me a minute."

Mac laughed. "That's not gonna work, but thanks." His hands dug into her hips, pulling her against him, and he began to thrust. Each one hard and fast, but she could feel every hot inch of him.

Heather watched him fuck her. His eyes were closed in concentration and beads of sweat were already dotting his forehead. The pain was gone and replaced with slowly building pleasure. She moaned and saw a faint smile touch his lips. Emboldened, she wrapped her free leg around him and saw those blue eyes open in shock. "You wanna play, sweetheart? Let's go," he growled. His next thrust was brutal, jolting her from head to toe. "How do you like that? Gonna try to play games, mess with my head? Fuck that!" He fisted her hair again, fucking her hard and fast. "Come on, lie to me, sweetheart. Tell me you like being chained to a wall, tied with your shirt, and me fucking you like I own your ass."

Quick and unexpected, Heather came, HARD. "Oh my God."

"You're crazier than I am," Mac groaned. His thrusts were becoming erratic and with her body limp, Mac pulled her hips against each deep stroke, pounding and using her body without mercy. He came with a scream and she could feel his come because he was in her that deep.

Weak, Mac collapsed on top of her panting. "Wrap that shit around my neck, and I'll strangle you, he warned.

Heather rolled her eyes. "Have I tried anything, Mac? Jeez, enough with the threats."

"Only because I haven't given you a chance."

Heather shifted until Mac lay beside her with one arm across her waist and waited until he looked at her. "I could have wrapped my shirt around your neck at any time, but I didn't. What are you gonna do when somebody shows up here, anyway?"

He yawned lazily. "Ain't nobody gonna show up because everyone who knew about this place is fucking dead. Only reason you ain't tried anything is because you're not stupid and I can get you off."

"Ok genius, I'm gonna clue you in on a few things. I'm rethinking my intelligence and sanity level. I haven't tried anything….because I didn't want to."

Mac propped his head on her shoulder. "Why didn't you want to, and don't you lie to me."

"Don't lie to me either," she countered. "Did you kill the other people who knew about this place?"

"Yep," he admitted casually. Lord, Heather thought, fighting a chill. "I slit their throats and buried them in the desert."

"What are you hiding behind the plastic?"

"Meth." Again just as casually. He was watching her closely, clearly deciding if she would live or die.

Aware of the dangerous line she was walking, Heather knew complete honesty was her only choice. "I didn't fight you. I didn't want to fight you, because I liked this. I've never been more turned on in my life. You're crazy, dangerous, gorgeous, and yeah, you can definitely get me off."

He kissed her forehead. "So if I untie your hands," he prompted.

"I'd finally get to touch you." she returned with a smile.

"Oh yeah, where ya gonna touch first?" he was already struggling with the tight knot trapping her wrists. Her temperature began to rise when he had to use his teeth.

"Your hair," she admitted, just as the knot came free. True to her word, Heather grabbed his hair, pulling his mouth to hers. He let her control the kiss, keeping it slow and gentle. She roamed her hands over those hard shoulders, down his back, and felt him shiver. He broke the kiss. "You owe me a present for untying you." There was a definite smirk of amusement on his face. "So what you're gonna do is take those nice free hands, reach down between your legs, and show me what you like."

Heather could feel the burn of a blush on her face. "That is NOT gonna happen."

He moved fast. Up from the mattress and across the floor with the silent, predatory movements of a cat. He picked up the knife and ran a thumb across the blade. Blood immediately ran down his hand. Point taken, the knife was sharp.

He strolled back casually and stood over her, letting her see the blood drip onto his thigh. "Yeah it is, sweetheart, one way or another. And you're gonna watch me every minute your hands are on **MY** pussy!"

Still she hesitated.

"I'm gonna count to 5. If you're not rubbing that clit when I hit 5, I'm gonna cut your stomach. Dare you to fucking try me, sweetheart," he was smiling. "1... 2... 3... 4..."

Face burning, Heather reached between her legs before he could say 5. She was still wet and sensitive. His eyes were burning as he watched her play with herself. "Inside," he panted. "I want you to finger fuck yourself, right now." Already his voice was deeper, breathing rapid, and hard.

She slipped a finger inside and couldn't suppress a moan. Watching his face, she moved her finger slowly, showing him what she liked. But as the orgasm began to build, she moved faster, moaning and pinching her own nipples with her free hand. She climaxed hard, eyes locked on his and saw him licking his lips.

"That was the hottest goddamn thing I've ever seen," he growled, walking toward her. He grabbed her hand, and put the finger that had just been inside her in his mouth. He still had the knife in his hand, noticed it, and tossed it just out of reach. "On your stomach," he ordered. "Ass in the air and keep your hands stretched out in front of you."

When she didn't move fast enough, Mac roughly flipped her over, pushing her face down into the mattress, and fisting her hair. He yanked her hair once, hard, and her head jerked up painfully. "Just checking."

He entered her hard, no warning, and she was still sore.

"Ow!"

Mac laughed. "If you think that bothers me, fucking think again." His next thrust was harder and he pulled her hips back into him, and she saw stars. "I'm big," he panted, "and I like little girls like you to know they're getting fucked."

The pain was fading, being replaced with pleasure. He was using her body, brutal thrusts, but he was moving slow this time. She could feel every inch of him pull out only to plunge back savagely. Each time he gripped her hip to pull her back into him. "Know you're being fucked, right? No doubts are there?" He pulled her hair. "Better answer me."

"Yes," she moaned. His words were just feeding her desire. This was beyond anything she'd ever imagined.

"Yes, what?" His breathing was beginning to roughen, but he continued to move slowly in and out.

"Yes, I know I'm being fucked. I can feel every damn inch of you, and I'm not complaining." This time she leaned into his thrust and felt his surprise.

"You're one crazy bitch. Now shut up." His hand moved away from her hip, scratching her spine, before he slapped her ass. Heather bit her arm to keep from crying out, it hurt and felt so good. He began to rub, soothing the sting, never missing a stroke. A slap on the other side, immediately burned, and she could feel an orgasm building. A calloused hand again, soothing the sting.

"I'd like to turn you over my knee and really spank that ass." He panted.

"Oh God," she moaned.

"Crazy bitch. Are you about to come?"

"God yes!"

"I could stop," he threatened.

"Don't you dare!"

He paused and leaned down to lick her neck. "Beg me," he whispered.

"Please," she whispered, grinding her hips until he was buried inside her again.

"Not good enough."

Beyond shame, beyond caring, desperate for him to move inside of her, Heather begged. "Please fuck me, Mac. Hard, fast, hurt me, whatever you fucking want. Please."

"God damn, fucking brilliant." He eased out, wrapped one arm around her waist, and found her clit with the other. His next thrust was brutal, a fine edge of pleasure and pain, and his finger was pure magic on her clit. Thrust after thrust, insistent circles with his thumb against her, and Heather shattered. A scream burst from her, primal and triumphant.

"Ah fuck, you come hard." His thrusts were faster, breathing ragged, and he held her hips prisoner. She felt him climax before he moaned, hips rocking into her possessively. When he finished, Mac lay against her limply, covered in sweat. "Guess I don't have to worry about you screaming rape."

In a haze and drowsy, Heather smiled. "To who? Are you letting me go?"

Mac moved and lay on his side, pulling her to face him. "No. I can't let you go." He kissed her almost gently. "I like you. You're a crazy bitch, sweetheart, and a damn good fuck. I might actually miss you," he admitted with a chuckle.

Half asleep, she saw him grab her ripped shirt and closed her eyes. He kissed the tip of her nose. "I'm almost sorry about this." She felt him wrap the shirt around her wrists again, tying her more tightly than the first time.

Mac crossed the room and reached down for the knife. "You were a lot of fun. Great fucking ass. I'll be quick."

Heather was sleepy and half drugged from her orgasms. She barely felt the knife across her throat, only the sensation of a hot shower as the blood rushed down her neck. He stared at her, his expression impassive, and she began to feel sleepy, darkness creeping at the edge of her vision. Her last sight was a gorgeous man, chewing his thumbnail and watching her closely. It was enough.

By

B. L. Green

helloherman1


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